


Madness

by Sky_kiss



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Compartmentalization, F/M, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, gabe has a lot of issues, they are both secretly soft at the end of the day, villain love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 21:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16584821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sky_kiss/pseuds/Sky_kiss
Summary: Gabriel is married. Gabriel is dedicated.Hawkmoth is...unattached.It presents a unique opportunity. Or: Gabe decides compartmentalization is the answer to his attraction. He deals with things badly.





	Madness

**Author's Note:**

> ...I'm making bad life choices again. Have some Gabenath.

Gabriel deals in absolutes. 

He is a married man. He is a happily married man and that singular word is enough to make all the difference. The fashion mogul pauses, stares sightlessly forward. His assistant’s desk is empty; he finds it...difficult to work without the rhythmic tapping of her nails against her tablet. 

Absolutes say his attention should not linger on Nathalie near the end of the day. He should not catalogue the way the light hits her at dusk; he should not linger on the fact that a suit of deep blue would suit her coloration and figure better than the stark blacks she so favors. 

A happily married man cannot avoid the distraction and he is _dedicated_. He will not _stray_. 

Some days it’s a declaration; others it’s a curse.  
______

Gabriel spins lies as artfully and effortless as he would any fabric. Some days the lies are meant for Adrien. Some days they are...self inflicted. He purses his lips, languishing in his lair’s halflight. The silence is a welcome reprieve after meeting with buyers, the board…

He extends his right hand, still dourly amused as the butterflies flit about him. 

Perhaps they recognize him. Even like this, another man entirely. 

The thought lingers.  
______

Gabriel is married. Gabriel is dedicated. 

Hawkmoth is...unattached. 

It presents a unique opportunity.  
______

Nathalie does not shrink back. His assistant arches a brow, expression coolly indifferent as he closes the distance between them. Gabriel is taller, even when she wears her heels; Hawkmoth is a step beyond that. Hawkmoth towers over her. 

She could have had a career in Hollywood. Her expression gives nothing away. It's the emotion that betrays her; he can feel the roiling sensation in her gut, nervous, excited. There is something darker there too, an underlying sensation he cannot quite put to words. 

Hawkmoth frowns, brow furrowing. He reaches out, stroking her cheek. 

Her breath catches, an infinitesimal gasp, “Sir?” 

She wants him. He feels it; he’s felt it for months. 

And why shouldn’t Hawkmoth have her?  
_____

She’s a clever woman. On some level she understands the game. Self preservation, maybe, or a more insidious motivation. Hawkmoth finds it difficult to care. All he’s wanted these past months is to strip her of her poise, to _see_ her...

In some ways, it is more fulfilling than simple nudity.

Nathalie chews her lower lip between her teeth, hands fisting in her hair. She clings to her reservation, panting quietly even as the muscles in her abdomen flutter, back arching. He chuckles, enjoying the way she jerks as his breath plays over her core. 

“Sir,” her touch skates down, over her breasts, down her belly, to curl behind his neck. The little act of possession leaves him smirking, tongue flicking over her clit. He loves the taste of her; the way she draws taut, jaw slack, as he balances her right on the edge. 

She is beautiful. 

She comes with a shout, wordless, nails digging into his scalp. Her heels dig into his shoulder blades. It rapturous energy before she goes boneless in his hold, pale eyes fluttering open. 

Nathalie smiles at him. She always smile in the afterglow. It is a radiant, infectious, dangerous expression and Hawkmoth cannot help but smile back. 

It's Gabriel whose stomach twists.  
_____

Some nights, after his work is finished, after Adrien is sent to bed, Gabriel returns to his lair. Hawkmoth will hold his unholy vigil. If nothing else, it keeps him from tossing and turning in his empty bed. The master suite has felt…haunted since Emilie's sickness. 

Nathalie joins him from time to time. Her hands settle on his hips, squeezing in warning, before she twines her arms around him. She is warm. She is soft. She is human and she is so achingly alive. She presses her lips to his shoulder and it marks him as absolutely as any brand. 

Hawkmoth will close his eyes and let her sooth him. He will fall into her lazy ministrations. Her little acts of worship.

Gabriel threads theirs fingers together and feels the first stab of betrayal.  
_____ 

They fall into a pattern:Hawkmoth creates his akuma. Ladybug and Chat Noir cleanse his creations. Nathalie offers her assistance. And it is logical. It is the logical solution to this rut he’s fallen into. Mayura evens the scales. Mayura is Hawkmoth's mate. 

Gabriel is the problem. Gabriel cannot, and will not, sacrifice her. The surety of that sentiment galls him. He snaps at her once when she will not let the issue go. It's only then that she stops, blinking, stunned. There’s something dangerously close to realization in her eyes. He bars his teeth at her in some catty approximation of grin. 

When he takes her, Nathalie’s legs tangled around his hips, he is...rough. He ruts against her like a base animal, reveling in her breathy cries. Nathalie rocks against him, clumsy in her need, and he finds himself hating the layers between them. 

He wants to feel her. He needs to feel her. 

She whispers something as she comes. He knows, even as blood thunders in his ears, deafening him, that she’s said his name and all he wants is to hear it again.  
_____ 

She loves him. He feels it. The soft, almost warm, contentment which pools in her heart when they're alone. The sickly tang of “what if.” 

Nathalie is a realist. She buries these feelings deep down. He finds himself searching for then whenever they are together, sifting through the layers of her psyche until he finds her love. 

He finds it soothes him. He finds, after yet another defeat, it is a more efficient salve than losing himself in her body. The first time he gathers her in his arms, Nathalie blinks. It takes a full minute for her to reciprocate. 

They do not talk of these interactions. They are more somehow infinitely more taboo than sex.  
_____

Nathalie no longer chews her lip to stay silent. She whines for him; she moans. She encourages. Her voice has an unnatural power to it, melodic and sensual and so painfully French. She ducks her head to suck at his pulse and he purrs, turning his head to grant her better access. 

He likes it better this way. The push/pull; the competition. He is a master of everything else in his world, as Gabriel and as Hawkmoth. He finds he has no desire to exert that same control over her. 

She winces, grinding down on him. The corner of her mouth curls in momentary frustration before she manages to compose herself. 

She’s come to hate this game. Her fingers ghost over the brooch before she can stop herself. He feels it. A spark of electricity that arcs through every nerve in his body. 

Gabriel makes a choice in that moment. He chooses to damn himself. He guides her hand back to the brooch, breath stuttering as she tears it free. She tosses it somewhere to the left and he should care more. 

He doesn’t. 

It's skin on skin. It’s the heat of her wrapped around him as he finally buries himself inside her. The sound she makes and the way her nails break skin raking down his back. 

For a man like Gabriel, composed, absolute, it is finally succumbing to madness.


End file.
